#day1610

[deathimselfart]

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[yourflowersfirst]

day 1,610

hold me, nicely. im so unlovely. my pain has caused

me to lose my god damn gratitude, how could i let this happen? i survived but im filled with misery. god has shown me so many things, but i cower in fear. i've seen it. i understand. sick of my own face, sick of my skin; im scared of the dark, kick my chest in. i'm known for leaning into the hand that beats me bloody, it's taught me death is like to be kinder than man. i've endured nausea every single night.

spit your blood into the cup and i will drink it down.

i kneel gently at the pew and pray and pray and pray that you will be the exception, you won't beat me bloody, so to speak. my dear, reminiscent of a corpse- you are unearthly in being. i would not change a thing of your rigor mortis for the world. id cough up flowers and slowly transform into a garden until you decided i'm worth something. you have no idea how lovely that is, how appealing the concept. how appealing you are.

i'm getting ahead of myself. i want to own, i want to

be owned. mom, if you're reading this, are you sure i was born a person, and not a vortex? i'm always hungry, i love the feeling of being starving. always swallowing. no matter how much i consume, my soul always aches with emptiness.

"i don't know," i replied honestly. "it's been 4 years, i've liked people, but it's just never gone anywhere. they don't like me back." i chugged more of my vodka lemonade with a tiny smirk on my face. the stars were shouting at me. it was awesome.

"ok, you're my friend, so i'll try to put this gently, but i'm gonna be totally honest," he replied. "it's because you're a whore."

static buzzed in my ears. the stars went dead silent. my eyes were slow from the alcohol, so i looked away from him and up at the moon, a waxing crescent. it took me 1o seconds at least. "oh." i drank more to keep myself from

tearing up.

"i’m sorry, but that's how it is. it's why guys don't..."

"yeah, yeah, i get it. it's fine. i know what i am and

what i do. i'm ok with dying alone, ya know." i didn't believe the shit coming out of my mouth. i could act as cool as i'd like, it didn't change how badly hearing the truth so blatantly hurt me. i could write a million poems, paint 400 portraits with oils, wear the cutest outfits, have the best taste in music, always make you laugh, be kind to everyone i meet - it wouldn't change what i am or how you see me. i don't hurt anyone. but i am a whore. that's all you see. not a single other part of my story. it's too late to go back and change this.

i pretend i'm ok with that.

i have friends, sure, but im the butt of the joke. people will point and laugh at my expense and i'll allow it, even though i know their worst fear in the world is to date some disgusting creature like me. "oh, i feel so bad for your boyfriend/girlfriend". i hear that more often than anything. please, go ahead and immediately dismiss my experiences. who cares what i've been through? that's irrelevant, obviously.

point is, i can smell the judgment on you. it stinks.

it's coming off your skin, and as such i will treat you like a threat. i will become nonexistent. i will cut you off the moment you think, "she must be a whore".

woe is me, even

though i’m not hurting anyone. i’ve been hurt physically and emotionally and what i did was a way to pay bills- no pain is caused. i would dissociate but that’s not the point. before all that, i have been left bruised, cut, sobbing, bleeding in a bathroom, you have no idea. yet, i am kind to everyone i meet, i treat you gently. none of this matters to you. the masses point with one hand and jerk off with the other, never mind the fact that i don't even do it anymore. please

objectify me, i'd be honored!

so i'll let my friends laugh at me. ask me questions

that make me uncomfortable, make my skin crawl. i’ll pretend it doesn't bother me. after all, this is my bed, and i shall lay and sleep in it. but not before bleeding all over the sheets. holy shit. my anger makes no difference. why did i even write any of this down?

when i find myself bleeding for the last time in an alleyway, or a bathtub, or across the bedroom floor- it will be rage who cradles my face more tenderly than god ever could. more than you ever could. more than any man ever could. it will be rage, with her calloused hands and warm heart, who thanks me for letting her burn for so, so, so very long, always silent, always under the surface of my skin. it will be rage, broken-voiced (hoarse after years of screaming for justice, for shedding tears every night for 1,610 nights), who tells me, "you've done good. i’m proud of you."

[kabunaluna]

July 32,2024 tried new soba restaurant for lunch

[russellolsonart]

Irish I was there No.1; 5x7 oil on gesso wood panel 2022 Daily drawing no.:149 Daily drawing no. to date.: 1,610 . . . . . . #day149of2022 #day1610 #1610 #may #may2022 #procreate #random #oilpainting #character #onedrawingadaychallenge #onedrawingaday #dailydrawing #drawing #illustration #russellolsonart https://www.instagram.com/p/CeKtrvtrKkz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[marcmadej]

#rsd1610 #day1610 #dailyrun #runstreak #nrc #fvrj #foxvalleyrunjunkees #runjunkees #goingfor2000 #dedicatedtochad #rip #godspeed #daily5kplus #blessed #brooks #lifeisgood #harvestnewbeginnings #loggingmiles Got 6 miles in with Debi! #themoose #happyplace #hashtag Life is a blessing! Chose to live happy!! #yorkville #hoover #trailmiles (at Kendall County Forest Preserve District - Hoover Forest Preserve) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHi6Whrgg5L2DSufWl5seLNWNyGppppvX2AGT80/?igshid=fdsx45g2ydru